Sealed Before The End
by Ozwin
Summary: It was all over. He was gone. And she was broken. But what if...What if there was one last goodbye left for them to say?


**A/N: Well, this just occurred to me during my algebra class a few days ago, and I wrote this on the back of my Math notebook. I broke my own heart in writing it. I am now writing it while Almost Lover by A Fine Frenzy was playing, and I suggest you do the same, although it doesn't really have the same message as this story does. It just increases the heartbreak. Hope you like it.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to the oh-so-beautiful J.K. Rowling. I only own this plot.**

I was horrified. I was saddened. I felt an empty pang shoved into my chest. He was gone, after all, and he was never coming back. I had loved him secretly, only from a distance. But he was untouchable; he and his twin were one of the most wanted by girls. They were famous, good-looking, and they weren't jerks. Although they weren't that intelligent in most of their classes, when it came to Charms, they were geniuses. So in other words, they were perfect.

But he was gone.

The war had destroyed many lives, and his was taken. When the wall had fallen on him, something inside me just broke. I didn't really know that I loved him in an intense way until that moment, and stinging tears started to fall on my cheeks then. I felt like I should've told him what I felt, and there was no way to do that now.

I grieved for him the way George had, and the others thought of it as odd. I wasn't that close to him, after all. But I didn't care what they thought of me. I didn't care about anything anymore. I only felt pain, pain for him leaving us. Leaving me. Although I knew he had never thought of me as something more than a sister he never had.

At least, I thought he did.

It was already more than a year after the war, and I had insisted to have my own apartment in Muggle London. I had taken a job as a librarian in a simple bookshop a few blocks away. I planned to refrain myself from using magic, since it reminded me too much of the past life I had. And the war that took many lives. Lives of the people I cared about.

It was a simple Sunday afternoon, and I was absentmindedly sipping on my cup of jasmine tea in the living room. I was staring at nothing, feeling numb. It was eerily quiet in my apartment, but that was just the way I wanted it to be. For the past few months, that was how it was. I lived a rather repetitive life, like I was a robot or something. I rarely smiled anymore. I hardly ever kept in touch with Harry, Ginny, and the other Weasleys. I started to live quietly, safely. My wand and my other magical stuff were all kept in a small briefcase in the basement, and when I was tempted to touch it, I would just simply run my fingers at the locks. And I would leave.

Then something tapped on my window which snapped me away from my numbness.

When I looked at the sound, I almost dropped my cup. It was an owl, and it was carrying a a letter. My numbness started to fade, and I felt like I had just woken up from a boring dream. I hadn't thought about magic for months, and suddenly an owl brought back the memories. Hogwarts, my quill, the smell of parchment, the library, Harry, Ron, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, Percy, Bill, Charlie, George-

And then I stopped thinking.

I quickly placed my cup down on the center table and approached the owl tapping continuously on my window. I slowly opened it. It was a brown barn owl that I didn't recognize. As I took the small package and the letter from its legs, I gave it a small pat on the head. It gave a small sound, as if purring. Memories rushed through me again.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice quite rough.

As if on cue, it stood tall and flew away. I stared after it, thinking deeply.

I looked back down on the packages I was holding, wondering from who it may be from. Harry and Ginny had stopped writing to me for months already because I never wrote back.

There was a small post-it note on the top of the letter, and a familiar scrawl was used. My breath hitched.

_Hermione, _it read. _I know you don't want to speak to anyone since the war, but I just really thought this was necessary. I was cleaning my room yesterday, and I happened to take a short look at my twin's old drawer. This was placed in the topmost part of it. I thought he wanted me to see it, just in case what happened to him had happened. It was addressed to you. I didn't dare to open it, just to respect your (and his) privacy. I'm sorry for bothering you. George._

I smiled a little. He knew well not to use _his_ name when speaking to me, because it would always make me break. After all, we both didn't like to use his name, especially because we both loved him too much.

Then my smile faded as I looked at the letter once more. It was in a white envelope, and my heart started to sink when I saw my full name written in another familiar hand, and it was a little close George's.

_Hermione Jean Granger_.

I traced my thumb across the scrawl, feeling my eyes brimming to tears. Once, _he_ had touched this piece of paper. _He_ had written it himself. _He _had written it for me.

But I still didn't get my hopes up.

Slowly, with trembling fingers, I turned the envelope around and carefully took off seal. I was cautious enough not to rip it apart. I wanted to keep my every memory of him as safe as possible.

My hands trembling harder, I pulled the parchment from the inside of it. I closed my eyes.

I took a deep breath and opened the letter. Slowly, I opened my eyes, reading the words my love had written slowly.

_Hermione,_

_If you received this, I must be dead and gone already. I must be buried in some church, and I must have had a phony funeral already. And I bet it was George who sent this to you. I bet my life (although it is already taken) that he didn't die. Before we will leave for the war, I will place this at the top part of my stuff in my drawer, just in case _I_ do. Which I probably did, as I had said._

_Hermione, I just wanted to say something to you. Something that has been bothering me for years now. Since your third year, I had started to notice you. Not mainly because you tamed that bushy hair of yours or because your buck teeth disappeared, but because of just...you. You're just beautiful, Hermione. But of course, my little brother has got his eyes on you. And so I backed away. I guess I just really love my brother too much, no matter how weird that may sound._

_But that didn't stop me from loving you. I tried to forget about it by dating other people, like Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and all the others. But I just couldn't. You were just in my mind too much. Nobody knew about this except for George, who had a lucky guess. Actually, he wanted me to make a move on you already._

_I don't know why, but I couldn't approach you and tell you how I feel about you. How much I am affected with your smile, your blush, the way you bite your lip, the way you stutter when your nervous, and all the other things like that. I became a coward, which was a new thing for me. I am never a coward._

_I put through this for about six years, and it was a little hard. And so now, when I am already dead and I won't be able to see your beautiful face anymore, I confess my love to you._

_I love you, Hermione Jean Granger. I love you so much, and I am not saying it in the past tense. Although I am not there anymore and I am somewhere else above you, I still love you. Believe me, you must've be the one thing on my mind when I died. I would give up my life, my dreams, even my own shop for you._

_Although you may not feel the same way, I still had to say this to you._

_But if you do..._

_...Let's just say I must be the luckiest man who had ever lived on the planet._

_I seal my heart to you before the end._

_Goodbye._

_Loving you forever, Fred Weasley._

My tears continued to fall down my cheeks, not stopping. My fingers trembled, and my stomach churned. When I saw his name at the end, a name I had forced myself not to remember anymore, I just sobbed. Pained sounds escaped from my lips.

But there was also joy. Relief.

Fred loved me. After all these years, he had loved me. And as it was said in the letter, he still did. He said he would never stop loving me.

And I believed him.

"I love you too, you bloody idiot," I muttered between sobs, hugging the letter. "I love you, Fred."

Saying his name made a small shield protecting my heart disappear all of a sudden. It was a shield I had made since he had died. I had sworn to never open my heart that easily, because the end would only be heartbreak.

But that shield shattered, and its pieces disappeared. My heart was now open and exposed, but I didn't care. I felt free. I felt free because he loved me. That thought made me secure. His love for me was enough for me to live a million lives.

"I love you," I said again, smiling sadly. Tears continued to fall, but most of them was caused by joy.

"Goodbye, Fred."


End file.
